12 June 2009
Inspired by The Weekend Wordsmith.
Light comes through the slats,
sometimes subtle, sometimes
keen--then the shutters cut like Damascus
steel through butter. The light
comes regardless of pallor or intensity--
a dozen curtains couldn’t block the cumulative
kinetic energy of the sun’s arms winding through
space, bouncing off the moon and the atmosphere,
making their way to my window, melting
into a bright and beautiful pool at my feet.
2 comments:
Forgive my random comment, I just stumbled upon your blog and thought this was lovely. Especially: "then the shutters cut like Damascus..." Great work!
-Holly
Thank you, Holly. No apology needed. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
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